


The Untold Relics of Thedas

by Sresla



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 23:54:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21717970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sresla/pseuds/Sresla
Summary: Written for the Untold Relics of Thedas contest sponsored by BioWare in 2015, these are the codex entries and statistics for the three items I submitted in the hopes of getting them in-game: an amulet, a belt and a ring. Can you guess which one was my favorite?
Kudos: 2





	The Untold Relics of Thedas

Many years ago, a great rock fell from the sky. It woke Amund’s entire village with its bright fire trail and a roar that would have cowed a hundred angry bogfishers. No one ventured out that night but the next day, the entire clan trekked across the mire to the place it landed.

In its wake, trees were burned with nothing but embers left for leaves and the mud steamed, casting up a thick, ankle-high mist. The earth was a living carpet as the small creatures – mice, rabbits and those that preyed upon the scamperers and burrowers – fled the destruction. The rock, when they found it, was down in a hole large enough to hold every man, woman and child who came to see the spectacle.

“Our Lady of the Skies wars with Korth the Mountain-Father,” declared the village Sky Watcher, and everyone agreed that a battle between gods was a terrible thing. They could see the ground turning an ashy, powdery gray and the air smelled foul. The people of Oxuun were afraid, because if their Lady did not triumph, they would have to leave their homes and go to an unknown land where all might perish.

All activities in the village stopped; only the stone mattered now. One day, old Matara coughed and breathed her last at the rim of the great pit but there were no birds to complete the burial rite so her corpse remained, her legacy now an angry spirit. Others grew ill, among them Pitten, Amund’s bone brother. The skin on his arms and legs turned an angry red as if burned and Amund could hear his friend moaning in the night from the pain.

The stone shrank and the land died until one day, all that was left was the rock’s molten core. It was the size of a clenched fist and shone silver where it nestled in the earth.

“Our Lady triumphs!” the shaman shouted and those who were still well enough to keep vigil cheered, Amund among them. “Now, we must retrieve her gift, for it will remind the Mountain-Father of this day and that we are not a people to be trifled with.” Their bravest warrior climbed down into the hole but as he made his way to the center, one leg sank into the ground and he began to thrash and scream. It only took a moment before the swamp swallowed him whole and the shouts of triumph turned to wails of despair, because Korth – bitter over his loss – would not relinquish the Lady’s skystone to her followers. If they could not retrieve it, surely the Lady of the Skies would be as angry with them as she had been with the Mountain-Father!

Even years later, Amund could not remember leaping into the pit, only that he found himself at the bottom.

“Boy!” Amund heard the command and turned to see those closest kneeling, reaching out their hands to lift him out, but his eyes found the shaman. It was he who spoke. “On your life, you must FLY!”

Amund darted and dodged, never staying still, denying the sucking muck that grabbed at him and grumbled its failure to hold the interloper. Then, the stone was his and he recalled thinking how warm it was to the touch when he picked it up. He felt the earth’s pull and ran, taking a different path this time and not falling into the trap of following his own footsteps back to safety. As he grasped at roots, his feet finding any foothold they could even as dirt showered down on him from his useless scrabbling, the hand he finally managed to grab that pulled him up and out was the Sky Watcher’s.

“She calls you,” he said simply, and that was when Amund knew he would be the one to take the other’s place when the time came.

**The Lady’s Chosen**

**Unique Amulet**

+10% Magic Defense

+10% Melee Defense

+10% Ranged Defense

+10% Spirit Resistance

The end of your attack chain now drops 3 Electric glyphs in an area around you.

On kill increases movement speed, and attack speed 5% for 5 seconds. Stacks up to 3 times.

**The Avvar Sky Watcher who once possessed this necklace claimed it was crafted from a stone that fell from the sky into the Fallow Mire. The battle that waged between their Lady of the Skies and Korth the Mountain-Father claimed half their village but her triumph and blessing has protected them ever since.**

_Within Orzammar, surface dwarves are spoken of with the same distaste usually reserved for the casteless, despite the mighty houses’ reliance on them to broker trade between the outside world and the insular mountain kingdom. As such, few records give mention to them in the Shaperate, outside extensive lists of those exiled to live their lives aboveground._

_We are fortunate, then, that we can turn to other records, such as those kept by the Grey Wardens detailing the Fourth Blight. They do not shy away from mentioning these dwarves’ deeds, in particular a group of men and women who marched with the elf Garahel known as the Stone's Bastards._

_One of their leaders was a dwarf named Kragan, who possessed a gift for explosives. He had no eyebrows to speak of, but was said to have a broad, toothy smile that never failed to inspire his companions even in the darkest of hours. He was well liked by all who knew him, even Garahel’s taciturn sister Isseya, who mentions him by name in one of her personal journals. She likens his often heard laugh to a griffin’s cry (we can only assume this was intended as a high compliment, given her affinity to the animals)._

_The lightweight armor he wore was described as being fitted with hooks; the grapnels held his volatile arsenal, round balls that clinked against one another as he walked. The recipes for these concoctions have not been preserved but it is hinted that his was the mind that developed the ‘skyburners’ which helped break the siege at Hossberg in 5:20 Exalted._

_These same bombs were used during the battle of Ayesleigh, and it was here where Kragan lost his life. When the Archdemon Andoral was forced to ground, the remainder of Garahel’s army raced to the spot where the dragon crashed, only to be confronted by legions of darkspawn archers. As the air hissed with loosed shafts, it is recorded that Kragan ran ahead of the vanguard, directly into the darkspawn front lines, detonating all his bombs at once. While still suffering heavy causalities, the ensuing explosion prevented the remaining ground forces from being completely wiped out – and was likely what allowed Garahel to fly through on griffonback to make the killing blow on the Archdemon, ending the Fourth Blight._

_From_ In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of A Chantry Scholar, _by Brother Genitivi_

**Jocularity**

**Unique Belt**

-7 Cunning

+6% Front Defense

+16% Ranged Defense

+14 Extra Grenades

5% extra damage to each enemy within 2 meters

4% chance to apply Walking Bomb for 7 seconds with detonation of 6% weapon damage

**This heavy leather belt is equipped with iron hooks. Get too close and we’ll see who has the last laugh.**

Overheard near an Antivan alleyway:

_Ah, my friend, you do not want to be walking in places such as these without protection – although I know you must be skilled with a blade if you wear your steel so openly. The gems embedded in the hilt alone must be worth a fortune! But what of the attack you do not see coming?_

_I have piqued your interest, no? While I am certain you are a lion, bold and brave, who would readily face enemies out in the open, it is the sneaking cowards you must be wary of, the ones who would stick a dagger in your back. Honorless scum, I agree, but still, you recognize the danger I describe. Here, let me show you this._

_Wait, do not be so hasty to turn away! This plain metal band might appear to be nothing - a worthless bauble - but it was bought by the Hero of Ferelden for the_ asesino _, Zevran, renowned of the Antivan Crows._

_You have heard of our Black Shadow? Of course you have. Such was the bond between them that the Hero bargained with the Archdemon in secret for a way to forever protect his favored companion._

_How? I do not know. Within the Fade, perhaps; a place of both power and peril for those such as he, versed in the magical arts. Or did the Warden learn the language of dragons? It does not matter. The deal was struck and this was given over into the Hero’s possession._

_You are wondering now how one such as I come to have it, and why it does not encircle the ring finger of the Crow? When Zevran heard what the elven Warden had done, he refused to take it. A bold move, and a cunning one, for if the ring did not serve its intended purpose – to protect the assassin – Urthemiel could not lay claim to the Grey Warden. Even with the creature banished forever to the Black City, the threat remained and imperiled the Hero’s soul, for that was the agreed upon price. So Zevran cast it away, throwing it into the ocean outside the gates of Ferelden’s capital just after the new king's coronation. The debt was not one he wanted paid, even if he eventually lost his own life by turning down the gift._

_How much, you ask? Ah, the sordid matter of coin. Nothing is ever free, my friend, but this is no place to haggle and my throat is already dry from telling you the tale. It is privacy we want, if gold is to change hands. I know a tavern, yes, through here, and around the next corner, where we can do business. Do not mind the darkness, for I am here to guide you..._

**Urthemiel’s Bargain**

**Unique Ring**

+12 Constitution

+13 Dexterity

+6% Heal on Kill

+9% Avoid Killing Blow

+15% Lifeward Heal

Heal 2% of damage taken over 2 seconds

**Rumored as having been purchased by the Hero of Ferelden at the cost of his soul, this ring was obtained from the Archdemon to protect that which was most precious to the Warden. However, the gift was refused and Urthemiel’s machinations foiled when the ring was cast into the Amaranthine Ocean outside Denerim. Though unable to fulfil its intended purpose, the ring’s magic remains as a testament to the power of the Old Gods.**

**Author's Note:**

> Spoiler alert: none of them won. Alas. Maybe one day. As Zevran might say: I shall remain optimistic. Thank you for reading. A critique is just as valued as praise.


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